


Knife Play

by Kantayra



Category: Alias
Genre: F/M, Knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-28
Updated: 2005-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What <i>really</i> happened between Sydney's knife and Sark's crotch under that table in 'Crossings'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knife Play

**Author's Note:**

> As smutty as I wanted to make this, I was limited by my medium. Why, you ask? Because this is genuine canon Sarkney pr0n. :D I'm so proud of myself for pulling that one off. Set during the infamous Syd's knife + Sark's crotch scene in 'Crossings' because, honestly, where else would you fit in canon Sarkney pr0n? :P And you all know this is what was actually going on under that table. :P

Sark smiled slowly in the Gai Li sun.

Across from him, Lisenker continued to nervously puff at his cigarette. “Yes. The Covenant must be stopped,” he insisted. “What they are planning…keeps me awake at night. Not sleeping.” He let out an anxious laugh.

“My friend,” Sark replied as calmly and placatingly as was possible in this abominable accent, “tonight you’ll sleep very soundly.” Confident that there was no doubt whatsoever that he’d found his traitor and extracted as much information on the purpose of this defection as would be useful, he slid the gun out of his pocket slowly, taking aim at his target.

The smooth ease of the kill was interrupted, however, when Lisenker’s gaze turned upward abruptly. Before Sark had the time to react, he found himself in the rather precarious position of having a knife pressed against his balls. Slowly, carefully, he looked up…

Ah, Sydney Bristow. He ought to have guessed.

“Stay calm,” she informed them both brusquely as she and Agent Vaughn sat themselves down at the table. Sark suspected her orders were aimed mostly at him. “Nobody move.” She jabbed the tip of the knife into the fabric of his pants just enough to make him clench his teeth to fight back a hiss.

“What is this?” Lisenker demanded, looking ready to bolt.

Sark had almost forgotten the other man was there. Funny how one could completely forget about everything else when one’s most delicate bits were intimately threatened. He realized belatedly that he’d allowed his fear to show for a brief moment, obviously accounting for the self-satisfied glint in Agent Bristow’s eyes.

Unwilling to give away any sign of his discomfort, he was unable to take a noticeable deep breath but rather counted slowly in his head as he rebuilt his façade. In the meantime, Agent Vaughn was doing his usual mediocre job of trying to convince Lisenker that Sark was Covenant.

Sark was prevented from defending or denying his position by Sydney’s imminent threat. However, much to his relief, it seemed she’d lessened the knife pressure. For now, the flat of the blade merely rested against the length of his shaft, sliding over the fabric of his pants slowly lest he forget its presence. As if any man could ever forget…

Agent Bristow was attempting to convince Lisenker now, as well. No doubt she’d have better luck than her woefully incompetent partner. Her attention split, the pressure of the metal against his pants became less harsh and more… _stimulating_.

Cursing himself inwardly for that thought, Sark bit his lip and tried to focus his attention instead on the rather crucial matter taking place before him. This was no time to occupy himself with fantasies of all the truly wicked things Sydney could do to him, if she’d only turn away from her drab moralism. Unfortunately, Sark’s body – which he’d thought he’d taught perfect obedience in the past – decided to choose this moment to defy him.

He knew the worried look had returned to his face, but he couldn’t help it at the moment. He was not currently in the best position to infuriate Agent Bristow, and when she noticed his reaction to her intimate threat, she would inevitably be more infuriated and disgusted with him than she had been in quite a long while.

As if she could sense his thoughts, at that moment Sydney froze. Her reaction was slight, so slight that he was confident her mundane excuse for a partner hadn’t even noticed it, and then her expression turned normal again. The knife, however, tested her suspicions, tracing the underside of what was now clearly his erect shaft.

He bit back a moan at the sensation.

She cast him a brief, furious look, much as he’d expected, and he offered her an apologetic tilt of his head in response. Under other circumstances, he might have teased her a bit, but he very much wanted to keep his anatomy intact long enough for Sydney to one day touch him there with desire, rather than hatred. It was a fantasy, of course, but one he saw no harm in enjoying so long as he didn’t allow it to interfere with his job.

Which it was certainly doing right now.

He opened his mouth to speak out, gambling that Sydney would be too mortified by his body’s reaction to her to respond. One of these days, he was really going to have to stop underestimating her.

Because, rather than poke him to shut him up, she did something _far_ more insidious. An evil little gleam in her eye, she ran the knife blade _slowly_ down the sensitive underside of his shaft, then moved to caress his balls in a sensual circular motion, using the flat of the blade artfully as she fondled him.

He hissed and almost dropped his gun as pleasure shot through his body.

Dammit. She was taking his uncontrolled desire for her and using it against him, controlling him with his own weakness for her. She was so very definitely Irina’s daughter…

Agent Vaughn’s eyes flicked in their direction, and she just smiled at him sweetly. Vaughn smiled back at her affectionately, and then threw what Sark could only suppose was an attempt at a menacing glare in his direction. Ah, the delusions of a man who was superbly, blindly confident that his would-be mistress was harming the captive rather than bringing him unimaginable bliss at the point of a knife. If Sark’s opinion of Agent Vaughn could’ve lowered, it would’ve in that moment.

However, Sydney’s latest exquisite form of control soon tore him away from such thoughts. The blade was rocking slowly against his right ball now, massaging the sensitive flesh. Soon – _too_ soon, or was it not soon enough? – she switched over to his right, before his shaft received yet another agonizing stroke. She halted where his head was tender and hard and slowly began tracing random patterns across its slit.

Sark cursed his pants for being too thick to fully appreciate the sensation…and not thick enough to make him immune to this seductive torment in the first place.

She just smiled at his clenched teeth when he glared at her. Oh, she was such a delightful bitch. If only she’d taken him up on his offer, the things they could’ve done together…

Lisenker abruptly rose. “This was huge mistake.”

Agent Vaughn grabbed his arm desperately, forcing him back down into his seat. “No, no… You have to trust us.”

Abruptly Sydney stopped her delicious torture, leaving the knife still and lifeless against his crotch. He looked to her and saw that she was watching where a military jeep had just pulled to a halt.

“Vaughn…” she warned, as armed soldiers emerged.

It was all the reprieve Sark needed to enter the playing field once again. “I believe,” he began, his voice cooler than even he would’ve believed he could manage, “their army is in search of fugitives from a downed airplane.” He looked Agent Vaughn right in the eyes, challenging the simple-minded man in more ways than one. “Suspected CIA.”

Vaughn leaned in and tried to look intimidating. “Okay, let’s make this easy for each other. Leonid and I are going to walk calmly out of here. Sydney is going to keep the knife exactly where it is…”

At that point, Agent Bristow seemed to suddenly remember she was supposed to be threatening him instead of fondling him and attempted a menacing twist. However, she seemed more than nervous that he’d tell all about the fun she’d been having with him under the table and behind her partner’s back. Sark really couldn’t have been more content with the situation; the move of the blade was more erotic than not, and in the background Agent Vaughn was still rambling on obliviously.

“…until we are clear. Once we are, she will follow us. If you stick to that plan, you might still have children one day.”

It took all of Sark’s effort to look dangerous rather than supremely self-satisfied. “Except the execution of your threat will tip off our friends over there.” He gestured to the soldiers. Agent Vaughn nervously followed his gaze, looking downright frightened now. Sark just loved it when he held all the cards like this. And he really couldn’t help but feel deep satisfaction that he’d managed to accomplish it all even while being threatened in the worst possible way. He didn’t even fight to keep the victory from his voice this time. “It seems everyone has something to lose.”

Lisenker cut in, attempting to flee the scene. “Everyone…” he concluded, “except for me. Goodbye.” He got up to leave. Sark could almost admire the defector’s sense of self-preservation.

However, that wouldn’t stop him from carrying out his mission. Sydney had allowed herself to become woefully distracted, no doubt gazing longingly at the rather constipated look on Agent Vaughn’s face. It was easy for Sark to push her arm (reluctantly) away and shoot after Lisenker.

Unfortunately, Sydney took that moment to pay attention once more. Even Agent Vaughn couldn’t keep a good agent down for long. She knocked over the table and yanked at his arm; still the bullet only missed by inches. Her movements knocked him off-balance just long enough for her to get in a good kick to his gut. He rather suspected she’d been aiming a bit lower, but missed.

Agent Vaughn grabbed Lisenker, and the three of them ran their way. Incidentally, Sark noticed with a disappointed shake of his head as he took off in the other direction, straight into the waiting arms on the North Korean military. That was one got for following the lead of a man who really should never have been allowed out in the field in the first place.

Sark, however, had no difficulty escaping whatsoever and finally came to rest, somewhat out of breath, behind the hot metal wall of a small shop. He leaned back against the baking metal and panted heavily. It didn’t take him long to realize that the panting wasn’t entirely from fatigue, but rather an aftereffect of Sydney Bristow’s remarkable knifejob. She may have failed in her mission – for the moment; he had no doubts concerning her ability to escape whatsoever, unless Agent Vaughn continued to distract her like the complete nonce he was – but she’d at least prevented him from his own mission and left him hard, hot, and so very frustrated.

He realized with a wince that his own vehicle was quite a nice walk, his motel room even a longer drive, and there was no way his pride would allow him to relieve himself in back of some cheap shack. He was tender, yes, and the travel almost excruciating, but he’d dealt with worse.

And, once he’d retired to the privacy of his room, he’d have the most lovely images for a good, hard, _long_ wank.


End file.
